The Lake by Louise Sharland (best ereader for pc txt) 📕

speaking to you last night, I knew I had to get here.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Well I couldn’t let you deal with this all alone, could I? So I just threw a few things in the car, told Simon and Ellie if they fell out with each other while I was away, I would never forgive them, and here I am.’

I rest my head on my sister’s shoulder. ‘I’m really glad you came.’

‘Me too.’ Grace reaches her arm around my shoulders and gives me a hug. ‘But you can’t keep going on like this Kat.’

‘I know.’

‘I want you to promise me you’ll see a doctor, make sure you’re okay, and if necessary, get some medication.’

More pills are the last thing I need, but I don’t want Grace to worry. ‘I promise.’

‘Good,’ says Grace, shaking out the throw. ‘Why don’t you go back to sleep for a few hours? I can sleep in Mum’s room tonight.’

‘I’ve cleaned and dusted it,’ I say. ‘Changed the sheets too.’

Grace smiles. ‘It’s almost as if you were expecting me.’

I wake two hours later to the smell of bacon frying and freshly brewed coffee.

‘Hi, sleepyhead,’ says Grace, as I wander into the kitchen. ‘Have a seat.’ She pours me a steaming mug of coffee from a cafetière.

‘Where did you get that?’

‘Don’t you remember? I bought it for Mum ages ago.’ She points to a box on the counter. ‘It’s never been taken out of the packaging.’

‘And the bacon?’

‘I can still remember how to get to the Spar.’ Grace places a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs in front of me. ‘How’s the hand?’

‘Sore.’ I can see my sister’s eyes are red and puffy from crying. ‘How are you?’

Grace gives a resigned sigh. ‘A little sad,’ she says. ‘But even more sad that I feel so little.’ She discreetly wipes a tear away from her cheek. ‘I’ve arranged for a funeral director to collect Mum from the hospital. We’ll be able to see her tomorrow morning.’

‘Thanks Grace.’

‘The sooner we get this settled and over with, the sooner we’ll be able to get on with our lives.’

I nod in agreement, but I don’t know exactly what I have to get on with. Grace has Simon, Ellie, her students, and a wide circle of friends. All I have is an uncertain marriage, a dead child, and a ridiculous obsession with finding out what happened to him.

The funeral is held on a sunny Thursday afternoon in a small Methodist church in nearby St Dominick. Only a handful of people attend, including Doris, Simon, Ellie, and Adam. There are the obligatory hymns and readings, but Grace and I find we are unable to manage a eulogy, so instead the minister says a few words about Christ’s undying love, and then it’s over. She’s buried in a small plot near the car park: the note in her will said as far away from any Brethren as possible. The wake is held in The Bell; just some pale sandwiches and teas and coffees in a back room. By four o’clock it’s all over. As we wish the last of the mourners goodbye, I spot a vehicle in the pub car park. It’s only when I see the driver’s face that I’m certain.

‘Ryan,’ I whisper, but stay frozen to the spot. I feel Grace’s hand on my arm.

‘Do you want me to speak to him?’

‘No. I can manage.’

‘What the hell is he doing here?’ Adam has noticed him too. ‘I’m going to go over there and tell him to bugger off.’

I hear the hiss of a muted argument as Grace tries to rein Adam in. ‘Let her handle it, for God’s sake. She’s perfectly capable.’

I take a breath and walk towards the car. Even from a distance, Ryan looks old. His brown hair is flecked with grey and thinning at the temples. His face is lined and there is the beginning of a paunch. Where is that beautiful boy who took me upriver in his dinghy? As I approach, he appears to relax.

‘Hello, Ryan.’

Behind me, I hear Grace’s voice. ‘Leave her be, Adam. Simon, take him inside and get him a drink. I’ll stay out here.’

Ryan steps closer. ‘Katie.’ His voice is soft, tentative. The last time I saw this man was at our son’s funeral.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Me and the girls are visiting Mum and Dad.’

‘Oh.’

‘I heard about your mum.’ His eyes shift to where Grace is standing. ‘I’m sorry.’ Then, with a regretful smile, adds, ‘I just wanted to pay my respects.’

‘Pay your respects?’ I’m finding it hard to believe that Ryan, who, as far as I’m aware, has never even met my mother, would feel this way.

‘I was a coward,’ he says. ‘I should have stayed and fought for you.’ This admission is so unexpected I don’t know what to say. ‘I abandoned you, Katie, just because it was easier.’

‘You were only sixteen.’

He steps a little bit closer. ‘The apprenticeship in the West Midlands,’ he says, his tone cautious, ‘it was set up by them – the Brethren.’ I stare at him open mouthed. ‘I only found out later; and by then, well, it was too late. I was working, had a …’ He stops himself.

‘Girlfriend?’

He nods.

It was never too late for me, I feel like saying, but I keep it to myself. I stare at him, angry and perplexed. ‘Why are you telling me all this now?’

He swallows hard and I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

‘Maisie is pregnant.’ Maisie is Ryan’s oldest daughter, born six years after Michael. ‘Same age as you were when you fell pregnant with Michael.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Seeing what she’s going through has made me realise just how difficult it must have been for you. On your own, in that house with that woman.’ The mask is off, and Ryan’s resentment flashes like a beacon. ‘I should never have abandoned you. I was a coward and I’m ashamed of myself. Forgive me Katie,’ he begs. ‘Please say you’ll forgive me?’

My brain, already struggling to process